The Papers To Prove It
by The Seventh L
Summary: In which the Doctor and Donna go see a match, and Donna ends up getting up close and personal with the rear end of a young footballer. /Written for Springkink at Livejournal. Donna/OC; spanking involved./


The Doctor had promised Donna a real show of sport. The 2010 FIFA World Cup, he said, now _that_ was an event. All his talk of the colors and the noises and the pure excitement of the fans was enough to convince Donna it was a trip worth taking. Besides, there were only so many spa planets you could go to in a row before all the mud baths and microcrystal skin scrubs (all eventually interrupted by the Doctor's meddling) became repetitious. So that's how they ended up in Bloemfontein, South Africa, half an hour before game play started. An epic match between rivals Germany and England, and they would be watching it with the rest of the world, in the stands like proper football maniacs.

Only instead of where they were _supposed_ to be - mixed in with the other fans, standing in the screaming crowds - where they were ended up being in the back halls of the Free State Stadium, outside one of the team's locker rooms.

Donna smacked the Time Lord's skinny striped arms. "You landed in the wrong spot! What are we supposed to do here anyway?"

The Doctor looked around sheepishly. "Ah. Yes, I suppose I did - stop _hitting_ me! I'll just go and fix this then." He quickly whipped out his sonic screwdriver and so-called "brainy specs" and moved down the hallway, telling his companion to stay put as he disappeared through a nearby door.

She hoped that when he came back, he'd at least have the hindsight to bring one of those plastic horns she kept hearing outside. It sounded like a gang of angry hornets was buzzing lowly and loudly in the stadium. With a grin, Donna reached into her pocket and pulled out the Doctor's psychic paper - she had managed to filch it off of him while he wasn't looking and was on one of his rambling stream of consciousness moments that Donna usually did her best to filter out.

At the very least, she was going to have some fun with it while the Doctor was away. Judging by the sounds of the young men inside the locker rooms, there was plenty of _that_ to go around. Donna glanced about to make sure no nosy FIFA officials were lurking in the hallways, then with a giggle quickly ducked through the doorway and into the steam-filled locker room.

* * *

It was bad enough with the pressure on him to perform well on the pitch, but this was too much. He had just pulled his jersey over his head when he saw the redheaded woman stroll calmly into the locker room, going surprisingly unnoticed by most of the lads. He didn't blame them; their match against Germany was a big freaking deal and no one wanted to get distracted. But he noticed her, so she ended up walking over to _him_ as if he was important, like he was bloody Wayne Rooney or something.

"Hello there." She sounded rather cheeky. He wondered if she was a crazed fan who had snuck into the locker until she held up her credentials. "Everything going all right?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, trying to sound sincere. Although to be fair, he had never heard of a Professional Footballer Examiner named Donna Noble before, but she did have the badge to prove it. Looked official enough, too. "Is something wrong?" he added.

"No, not - yes. I meant yes." Miss Noble nodded once, twice, holding out her paper badge like a shield. "Here to examine the footballers."

"All of us?"

She looked about, eyes wide, as if just realizing she was in a men's locker room. A lot of the boys had already gotten dressed and moved out, but there were still lads around, pulling on shirts and shorts like the woman wasn't there. She looked back at him. "Nah, just you will do."

And then Miss Noble reached around and gave him a jolly good slap across the ass. He yelped, sparks from the slap arching up his back in a surprising way, and she just smiled. "Excellent! Nice, err, gluts on you. Very good for kicking."

He blinked, face flushing. "How is this examination anyway?"

She gave him a look. "My hand is examining what shape your body's in before you get out into the game. Oi, are you doubting the work of a FIFA official?" Not knowing any better, he quickly shook his head. "Well good, 'cos I'm the best in the business. I've touched David Beckham's bottom, you know."

"Really?" The young man grinned. "That's amazing!" Of course, she hadn't really, but he had no idea. Still, it sounded impressive enough.

"_Donna, where are you?_" A man's voice carried loudly from the hallway, and he watched Miss Noble's face deflate somewhat.

"Is that your boss?" he asked helpfully.

"No, just a loud skinny annoyance." Miss Noble scowled. He wondered if the man was actually Miss Noble's boyfriend, but decided not to ask. "All right then, lad, good job on . . . on being fit. Score one for the Queen, okay?"

She gave him a last good slap on the arse before turning away, and as he watched Miss Noble go, he actually felt a little sad to see her leave. At least she had been interesting.


End file.
